Canon Keepers III: Faux French Fobia
by JealousOfTheMoon
Summary: Eowyn's a veteran at Canon Keeping. But is she ready for this? Multichapter. AntiOC. THIS IS PART 3 IN A SERIES. 'TIS BEST TO READ THE OTHER 2 FIRST. [3rd and 4th chapters up. COMPLETE.]
1. Introduction

The last word of the title is misspelled on purpose to create a pun. If no one gets it, I may consider a re-working of it. This is a multi-chapter story for a change.

**Canon Keepers III: Faux French Fobia **

Introduction

_I sat in my office on the top floor of the many storied building. Another day, another pile of thousands of applications to process. Ordinarily I had five or six minions to help, but today they mysteriously all called in sick. Sometimes I think they coordinated these things just to drive me crazy. _

_A massive headache permeated my skull. I guess it all was my fault. When I was offered the position of _Executive Authoress_ here, it sounded so…spiffy. Gave me the sense and thrill of power, you might say. _

_Well, I guess massive headaches come with power. Right now I wanted to be anywhere but at this rotten desk. Unfortunately, I had nowhere to be but at this rotten desk. Signing heavily, I reached randomly into the middle of the foot-high pile and pulled out a random sheet. _

_As I read, my eyes widened. 'Good heavens,' I muttered. 'This is unusually difficult. Something's not right here…but nothing's expressly wrong. Hmm…' I pondered this difficulty a while. This would require someone capable, someone with a sharp head, a keen wit, and the reputation of a veteran. After a moment, I seized the phone. 'Hello, front desk? Get me Eowyn in Tolkein. Yes, I can wait a moment.' I leaned back, relaxing as I waited to be connected with my victim—er, employee. My day had just gotten better. It's always nice to know that someone's about to suffer more than you already are. _

'_Eowyn? This is the EA. I have your next case. I'm sending you the application and files. Look them over while I exercise my supreme power in the fanfic world to get the applicant to your desk within the hour!' _

_I put down the phone, leaned back, and rubbed my hands gleefully. This was going to be a fun case to write up…_


	2. Chapter the First

_Sorry about the Lewis category mix-up; force of habit took over. In fact, I submitted the story and then went off to do a babysitting job. 2 hours into the job, I thought, 'You know, I think I put that story in the wrong category.' But there was nothing I could do at the moment. It's fixed now._

**Fobia**- means "fear," mutilated form of word "phobia" used for the purpose of creating a disgustingly pun-like form of alliteration.

**Canon Keepers III: Faux French Fobia **

Chapter the First

On the same morning, Eowyn's desk is – naturally – rung up by the Executive Authoress. This surprises Eowyn, especially when the EA gives her several minutes to prepare for the OC's visit. The EA never gives warnings, simply sending the OC in without any warning. Either the EA is in a benevolent mood (hardly possible), or is intent on giving her a doubly hair-tearing task complete with dread foreboding. Eowyn decides on the latter. She only reads for a moment when the front entrance door to the Tolkein level opens and in walks…

'An ordinary person?!' Eowyn thinks, aghast. 'How is this possible?'

The OC, after twisting her hands self-consciously, begins: "Hello…I'm looking for the applications desk."

Stammering, Eowyn answers: "Erm, um, you're looking at it, I mean, right here. I'm the Keeper of Tolkein Canon for today; I'll be reviewing your application with you." To herself she thinks, 'Can it _be_?'

"Oh…well, my name is Alex M—" the OC begins somewhat self-consciously.

_OC's aren't self-conscious! _Eowyn's better sense protests. "I can see that. I'm looking at your application now, and…um…"

"What do you think?" The OC queries after a moment's pause.

Eowyn does not answer. She has made it to the end of the page, and is simply staring at the OC in shock, her mouth open. Finally she shouts: "WAIT. _You_ can't be an OC…there's nothing pretty or unusual about you! You're…you're…normal!"

"And that's a problem?" The OC—Alex's voice is bitter. "Look, everyone else who comes in here—they're drop-dead gorgeous. They have "unusual" eyes and long flowing hair which glimmers and sparkles in the moonlight. They have magical powers and ride tamed unicorns. Men drool at them wherever they go. And they get kicked out of here for being that way. Well, I'm not that way, and you're _complaining?_"

Eowyn flopped backwards into her chair with a thud. "Alright, Miss OC, I want you to tell me a little about yourself in your own words. I know technically I've just read this, but I want to make sure you're…well…"

"Gladly," the OC cut in smugly. "My name is Alex, as stated before, and I was originally from Southern California. There's nothing wrong with my life—in fact, I have a wonderful life, which is why I'm confused to find myself suddenly in Middle Earth. More than that, I'm bewildered when the inhabitants of ME, rather than viewing me as a newcomer, tell me that I've lived here all my life. I find out I am the daughter of Denethor's best friend. My father dies later on in the fic. Naturally, I fall in love with Boromir. The ending isn't settled yet—my author is currently recuperating from a nasty bout with walking pneumonia, but as soon as it is we will let you know."

"What's…what's your name in Middle Earth?" Eowyn replied faintly. She was still trying to comprehend this person.

"Alex is noncanonical, so in Middle Earth everyone calls me Alyn."

"Do you have any particular talents?"

"I am skilled with the blade," a faint blush crept over her cheeks. "Boromir teaches me."

_Well, at the least we can expect corny love scenes. _Eowyn thought frustrated. _The whole thing reeks like a fish market. Something's wrong here, but I can't get anything solid against her! And why does the name 'Alex M' seem familiar? She qualifies for the next level, but it's all wrong. Stall, Eowyn, stall! –Ah, excerpts! _

"Well, Alex, we're going to need to see some story excerpts. Please get in contact with your author and send us some." Eowyn paused, and then gritted her teeth. Might as well get it over with. "Also, take this application home with you and fill it out. You may find a few parts similar to the first application, but this one is geared more specifically towards Tolkein applicants." She took a deep breath. _Bite the bullet, Eowyn. You can do this. _"Congratulations, Alex OC. You have officially made it to the next level in the process of being accepted into the Tolkein Canon."

**Who is the EA? **

**Who is Alex? **

**How does she have everything right, and yet seem so wrong? **

**Who is her mysterious author? **

**Why does Alex's story seem to be hidden? Is it intentional? **

**What will happen next? **

**Find out more in the next chapter…to be added sometime in the indetermined future. **


	3. Chapter the Second

**Canon Keepers III: Faux French Fobia **

Chapter the Second

'_You did WHAT?!' I shrieked, standing up and then falling back into my chair. In my passion I somehow pushed the chair away from me and so I landed on the floor with a _bump._ Picking my bruised self and even more battered dignity off the floor, I carefully seated myself – ow! – in the chair and repeated my question in a somewhat calmer manner. I shouted instead of shrieking. It makes all the difference in the world. _

'_Madame,' Eowyn began coolly. Actually, coldly would be a better term. Perhaps downright frigidly-icy would do even better. 'Madame, I am sure you were aware of the very bad morning you would cause me when you gave me that "little assignment." You should have known better than to give me a bad morning.' _

'_My dear Eowyn,' my voice dripped patronizing sarcasm on the _dear_, and I reveled in it. 'You are a seasoned Keeper. I expected you to do your job with a little more…satisfactory results.' This was my pitiful attempt to retain a sense of calm in the room without groveling. The effect was similar to one a flea whispering "HALT!" has on a herd of stampeding buffalo—that is, nil. _

"_Listen, EA," she was mad. No one called me 'EA' to my face. 'I don't know who you think you are talking to me this way.' The words fell from her mouth in a stream of boiling water. I preferred the icy looks. 'I couldn't—can't—get anything solid against her. I played the game exactly as you taught me. I used your prescribed method, but it availed me nothing.' _

'_Confound it, Eowyn!' I'm not British, but every so often I drop in an expression just for fun. 'Couldn't you have—oh, I don't know, simply sent her packing?' _

_I was thankful looks couldn't kill, and even more thankful that I insist my Keepers leave their weapons at the door when the need for private audience arises. Otherwise, she'd be decapitating me with something other than a glare… _

'_We can't simply send them packing. You know the method; you wrote the blasted handbook! If they get angry before we get sufficient grounds to 'send them packing' they appeal to the courts, and without evidence in court we die. That's how the organization has held them off for so long. This is your so-called "brilliant" method, and this is what has us in a bind. I led her on, wrung her for as much information as I could, and all I have now is a measly handful of _possible _charges which, even if they're true, wouldn't hold water in a legal setting.' _

'_Yes, yes, I understand all that.' –Well, I hadn't entirely, or else I'd have cut her off long before now, but it doesn't help to lose one's all-knowing image in front of employees.—'But that doesn't mean you HAD to open the next level for her!' I groaned. For once my Keepers hadn't done everything for me, and I wasn't appreciating having to think through this. Doing work takes all the fun out of a job. _

'_What else could I do? Do you know,' she lowered her voice. 'I had this nagging feeling the whole time that if I didn't give her at least some minimal encouragement that her case was progressing, she would have somehow hacked her way straight to the access portal. I don't know how, but she knows the system.' _

'_Hmm.' I drummed my fingers thoughtfully. 'The whole thing, as you yourself so rightly thought, reeks like a fish market.' _

_Eowyn was gaping at me, her eyes wide. 'I didn't say that; I only thought that! H-how do you…?' _

_I smirked. 'I have supreme power in the fanfiction realm, and this is fanfiction.' (Well, semi-supreme anyways. It comes of being Executive Authoress.) Before she could process this or respond, I waved her out the door. She left. _

_I picked up "Alex's" papers and looked them over. No name of author-(ess?) given, no story excerpts…what was the big idea behind the undisclosed information? Groaning (I seemed to be doing a lot of that today), I flung the papers away and leaned back in my chair. I needed someway to relieve my headache, and surely 40 winks couldn't hurt…_


	4. Chapter the Third

"S" Stands For "SUSANNETTISTAOUI"

**Chapter the Third **

_ALEXANDRINABELLE S. MONIQUEQUELETTEFLEURCARPE_

Eowyn returned to her desk the next Monday with a grim expression and a sheaf of papers. But perhaps before we reach the startling climax of this story, we should rewind and briefly summarize the happenings of the evening.

Eowyn returned to her woodland home to her husband and (presumably) adorable son. Something about Faramir should be known at this point: he was a computer geek/nerd/whiz, and, having not enough to fill his time, he did as others of his kind (note: Aragorn) have done: he became a hacker.

Yes, Faramir and Aragorn together headed what is considered the bane of internet abusers. They were "IthilienRanger" and "RangerChieftain," notorious hackers and virus hunters. Their business might raise ethical questions – whether there is such a thing as "legally breaking the law" – but at least in this story they did something noticeably useful.

That is, they broke into at least a thousand different systems, a billion secure sites, and dug up a lot of background information (code words for "dirt") on Alex S. M..

By Sunday evening, Faramir was spreading all his findings before Eowyn, and relishing the look on her face when he announced: "See her name? The "S" is for—" and he uttered that unmistakable word, at which point she whispered "1997!" and fell into a dead faint. Faramir didn't relish that part so much.

Now she was seated at her desk, a mound of evidence before her, and a look of hardened satisfaction on her face. She had gone through an ordeal of a weekend—Faramir wouldn't tell her what he was finding until Sunday evening, and she had had to put up with ejaculations of surprise, horror, and glee followed by a hasty covering of the computer screen and a protest of "Not yet!"—and any 'Sue who came through there would have been sufficiently lambasted.

Well, it was then that Miss Alex S. M. chose to make her sauntering, mincing, prancing, bad-rendition-of-a-waltzing appearance.

"Alex," she smiled falsely, "Take a seat."

Alex acquiesced.

"Now, I trust you have brought me the information I required."

Alex squirmed—daintily. She was getting more and more 'Sue-like by the day.

"Well, see, I couldn't contact my writer, so I don't have the excerpts. Here's the form you requested."

Eowyn barely glanced over it—she knew everything already—before she tossed it in the only "Out" box her office knew – the Trash can. Eowyn never beat around the bush.

"Pink glittery ink," she remarked dryly. "Your 'Sue-ish nature is beginning to show, isn't it?"

Alex flushed (daintily, again) and her smile faltered. "I am not a 'Sue." –Speaking firmly—"I am an _OC_."

"OC…interesting use of the term. Last I knew, OC stood for "_Original_ Character." Yours is somewhat lacking in the original department—no offense." Eowyn's smile took on its former grim characteristic. "That means _you_ are not an original character."

"_I_ am very original." The OC took on a proud attitude.

_That's right, Eowyn. Lead her on._ "Your story's plot certainly isn't. How many stories have some close friend of Denethor's with a daughter who falls in love with Boromir? How many times does the story have Boromir die, and his "OC" die of a broken heart? Or, maybe your character does not die of a broken heart? Maybe she" – Eowyn wasn't smiling anymore – "falls in love with some other fellowship member."

"I—I—don't know what you're talking about. This is AU, yet _canonical_ story!" The OC was bristling now, and her fingernails suddenly turned sparkling pink. Eowyn noted this with a smirk.

"Have you ever heard of the Ranger Two? No? I thought not. They're expert computer hackers. I—ah—employed their useful abilities and discovered some very interesting things about you. The truth is, Miss OC, that you are not _original_ at all. You are, in a word, a fake. Faux. You might want to add that to your ridiculous name: _faux._ It won't make any difference if you did; it'd get lost among the "que"s and drown in the "oui" and "lette" and no one would ever notice."

The OC choked with rage. "You will not slander me liek—I mean, thusly!" Her hair turned bright gold with a shimmering pink sheen.

"Your true colors—or color—will show more fully upon closer examination. Shall I proceed? Thank you. The truth is, I know your name, and your name links you inextricably with an event of the past. We've been looking for you for a long time…Alexandrinabelle S. Moniquequelettefleurcarpe. And the "S"," she continued with a flourish, "stands for **Susanettistaoui**."

The 'Sue gave a choked gasp. Her clothing turned to a glittering, sparkling, overpowering shade of pink, and she vanished in a puff of pink smoke, glitter, and butterflies.

Eowyn let out a shriek, and began killing as many of the butterflies as possible. With one hand she grabbed the phone. "Hello, front desk? Send up security and maintenance—**_NOW!"_**


	5. Chapter the Fourth and Last

**Chapter the Fourth (and Last) **

_Farewell to 'Sues—for now. _

'_Brilliant!' I exclaimed. 'Your husband has merited himself a promotion.' _

_Eowyn hedged at this. 'I didn't say IthilienRanger was my husband.' _

_I laughed. She still didn't believe in my supreme powers in fandom. Ah, well. One day I'd convince them thoroughly. 'But I still don't understand how this 'Sue managed to get past Security.' _

'_She had a good cover-up job—and we almost let her through. Fortunately, Far—er, IthilienRanger discovered the incriminating evidence: that the 'Sue who broke out in 1997 and reeked havoc amidst 'Stu season with all the Male Keepers was none other than our friend, Alex.' _

'_You mean Alexandrinabelle Susanettistaoui Moniquequelettefleurcarpe?' _

_Eowyn groaned. 'Please…no more of than faux French. I'm heartily sick of it already—that and the color pink. I think the sight of butterflies will make me sick. Pink and butterflies—at least the hot glittery pink—is most unnatural. Turns my stomach.' _

_I shuddered. The shade of green her face had become wasn't the most appealing either. Ugh. _

'_I still don't understand why she would have fought her way through to inside the Canon?' Eowyn frowned, the green gradually leaving her face. _

'_Power, the ability to say, 'I did it!' might have been the only motive.' I responded. 'But we have record that this particular 'Sue was out simply to destroy our reputation. Her first attempt was breaking into this place during 'Stu Season and –er—turning several of the male keepers into fools.' _

'_I think she was out to destroy the Tolkein Canon as well. No wonder she wouldn't let us see her author's work! That was her weakness, and she knew it—for she wrote it all herself. _**LegolasPinkHeartsXAlexandrinabelleSusanettistaouiM 3 3 3 3 3** _is her rather sickening pseudonym – _' _I noted the green returning to Eowyn's face at the sound of Alex's name – 'and I think she intended, after using Boromir's death as a front for her story, to get herself into a rather disgusting romantic situation with Leggy himself.' _

'_Please don't say her name,' Eowyn gasped. _

_This could get fun. 'Why shouldn't I say Alexandrinabelle Susanettistaoui Moniquequelettefleurcarpe?' _

'_Because' – insidiousness flicked over her face, and I was afraid. Very afraid. 'I will read you her story.' _

'_Come now, it can't be all _that_ bad—' the color drained from my face. 'Or can it?' I snatched the papers from my Keeper's hands and scanned them. _Alyn smiled sweetly, moving her body smoothly, as Boromir gazed—_er, skip that part for intelligence's sake. _He pressed his body—_never mind. _Their lips met in a soulful—_' I read on in silence. When I put the papers down, my hands were shaking. _

'_Eowyn,' I said not without a hint of trembling. 'If you never mention this—this—Faux French Fobia business in my presence, neither will I.' _

_I could have sworn her lips twitched. 'Very well, EA,' she said finally. 'My lips are sealed.' _

_After she'd left, I glared for a moment at the accursed papers on my desk – the last traces of the Faux French FemaleOC. 'Hmm,' I mused. 'I wonder if these are water-resistant.' _

_And with that I plunged them into my water pitcher. The papers disintegrated, and the water turned pink. The hideous powers of the 'Sues, coming to force. _

_Ick. _

**THE END.**

Note: The '1997 incident' of the 'Sue breaking into the building during 'Stu season and making the male keepers look like fools is also reference in _Canon Keepers II_.

Note the Second: This story was a sort of "test-drive" of a non-scripted Canon Keepers story. To make it more of a test-drive I stuck it in the Tolkein category. If it's drabblish and not that good—well, I apologize. I do think I'll stick to scripted stories after this. It's much more fun. I don't know how many more multi-chaptered Keeper stories there will be as well.

Note the Third: I've had a couple requests for a Keeper-bashing story concerning P/E slash and P/S incest. I'm still rolling those ideas around but I should have something coming out in a bit. I'm thinking that the slash-basher will come first, but we'll see about that.

Note the Fourth (and Last): Concerning the mysterious 'EA' of this story – well, I intended for the identity of said personage to be rather obvious. It's my very own self. As for references to my supreme powers, be it known that 1) I do not intend to exalt myself to a god-like position and 2) the supremeness is tongue-in-cheek and at least limited to fandom (which is, as you know, fictitious – so the supremeness is rather worthless in the end). If I had a beta, that person would be Executive Beta but as of yet I have none so some poor person will be spared the ordeal of being written into a story.

**-JotM**

**P.S.**: If anyone wants to submit an application to Tolkein – you can make it as ridiculous or serious as you like – and have it written into a story, you may do so. Drop me a line and I'll see if I can get my mock-application to you. Be forewarned that in doing so you will likely expose yourself to being made into a parody (i.e. mockery, in a good-natured sense).


End file.
